"Check the box under the right drawer of your bedside shelf, all the incriminating evidence can be found there." The client looked utterly shocked at the impossibly quick wit of the detective that laid before her, who was sitting lazily on his armchair with his hand resting again his face, drowning in boredom. She had no reason to be surprised though, this was Sherlock Holmes we were talking about. Sherlock gestured for her to go. She was looking around the room in a state of confusion, as though she could find sense in the situation hiding behind the cleaning supplies beside the fireplace. Her feeble movements were wearing on Sherlock's patience.
"Next!" he shouted, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to not fall asleep. The client gasped slightly, taken aback, and then shuffled out of the flat.
"Oh dear brother," an all too familiar voice rose from outside the door. "Could you show even the slightest of manners?"
"What do you need, Mycroft?" Sherlock turned to see Mycroft Holmes standing in his doorway, leaning against his favourite umbrella. Mycroft invited himself inside, scowling briefly at the utter disarray of the flat. He then went to the kitchen, grabbed a cup of tea Mrs. Hudson had made, swept a stack of books off of the armchair beside Sherlock's and sat down.
"I see you are taking a break from your very important case. Based on the immense danger England may be in right now, that may not be a good idea." Mycroft looked intently at Sherlock, studying him and the mess surrounding him.
"I am working on it," Sherlock said, slightly annoyed. He sprang up off of the couch. "Where's my laptop?" he began searching the flat, knocking over stacks of books and making even more of a mess in the process.
"Brother you have an unnecessary number of laptops, and you cannot find a single one of the them?" Mycroft questioned with a raised eyebrow. "But I suppose, judging by the state of this place, I should not be surprised. Is the lack of a certain doctor getting to you?" In response, Sherlock stopped in his tracks and turned his head toward Mycroft, his stoney face in a steady glare. Without diverting his gaze, Sherlock took his foot and pushed it against the nearby table, setting it a few centimeters from its correct position. His lips curled up smugly, satisfied with his triggering of Mycroft's OCD.
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Are you sure you ever aged above ten years old?" He glanced at the turned table, and hastily shifted it back into place. "Can you please act like an adult? This is a very serious matter, people could be in danger. Especially John."
Sherlock's eyes widened, his face twisting into an expression of intent concentration and worry. "Of course," he muttered. "Moriarty certainly knows that I am not dead now, so there is little doubt that he will go after those I…"-he searched his mind for the right word, settling on- "care about. Obviously John included." Sherlock paced restlessly, his frustration with the situation coming to light. "But how can he even be alive?"
"That is your job to find out," Mycroft said calmly, "so I would recommend you take a seat in your mind palace with your laptops and solve it." Sherlock scowled, trying to deepen his focus.
"Where's John going to be tonight?" he asked, puzzling Mycroft.
"That doesn't seem relevant-"
"Oh but it is completely relevant. You keep constant tabs on him, you know exactly what he will be doing, and I want to talk to him. I feel we can help each other."
"What's in it for me?"
"If you don't then I will deduce things based on the condition of your suit."
"You mean tell me things I already know?" Mycroft raised his eyebrow once again. Sherlock was looking increasingly frazzled.
"Well fine," Sherlock said defiantely. "Would you tell me if the security of the world depended on it?"
"What could you possibly want with John that would be for security?" Mycroft scoffed and took a large sip of his tea.
"I need to date him," Sherlock replied calmly.
The tea in Mycroft's mouth made a dramatic departure, spraying all over the floor. His face twitched, trying to keep a calm demeanor, but unsure how to react to such news.
"Excuse me?" Mycroft said, wiping the tea from his lip, deeply incredulous upon the whole situation.
"You heard me," Sherlock's tone was still steady. His gaze was away from Mycroft and instead at his bulletin boards, so Mycroft couldn't read anything from his face. "It is all part of the plan to get Moriarty. He is very crafty, see, but I could be one step ahead of him. If he thinks I'm in love with John, and that such a love blinds my judgement, his guard will go down and I will get the upper hand. Is it not a flawless plan?"
"Hardly." Mycroft said, the situation making a lot more sense now. "How is this for a problem? How the hell do you expect Moriarty to believe this? He knows you, and is therefore well aware of your lack of ability to socialize in general, let alone with a romantic partner."
"Oh but you've missed something," Sherlock said with a small half smile. "Moriarty clearly knows that John…"-Sherlock's expression softened, and a twinge of sadness hit his eyes- "is someone I care about deeply and don't want to see hurt. After all, he used him multiple times to get to me. With this, I think he would have no problem believing such a thing, seeing as I pretended to die to save John. And I plan to make it very believable. The issues with Mary presence is more complicated, but still very handleable. She stated she went on an brief emergency trip to Scotland, but that is certainly not the case. During a brief visit to John's home to borrow his shampoo, I noticed her suitcase being much too full for a brief trip. The contents of the suitcase indicates she is heading toward a tropical climate, and the dark colours and sunglasses show that she does not wish to be noticed. I would say she is going to America, likely in the south, on business related to her past, business she certainly doesn't want John to know about or be involved in in any way."
"And your point is?" Mycroft asked, drumming his fingers impatiently.
"My point," Sherlock said, "is that Mary is very likely in danger if she is dealing with her past, which is likely due to the death of Magnussen and her involvement with that situation. John will eventually find out in some manner, leaving him quite vulnerable, and in need of the comfort of a close companion."
"So then you will swoop in and be his Prince Charming? Are you missing the obvious complication that could occur? Well, one of many." Mycroft's words caused Sherlock to blink, disappointed in himself for missing a detail. "No?" Mycroft continued, "So let me get this straight. You will pretend to date John Watson, for the sole reason of making Moriarty think you are weak and let him get overconfident, so you can defeat him? Even though John is married, and as he likes to remind us daily, not gay. And you are…"
"I am what?" Sherlock said defensively.
"You are more...sentimental than you have been in the past. So is it really completely out of the question for your imagined feelings for John Watson to become reality? Then he will become your actual weakness, and Moriarty will win." Sherlock did not immediately refute with a predictable pout as Mycroft expected. Instead, he looked away, his face in deep Sherlock-like thought, but his eyes showing signs of something else more emotional.
"Mycroft, I thought you were aware that I have always been married to my work. The purpose of this operation is to destroy Moriarty and save John, so I'm sure he would be happy to find out that I went to this much effort for him."
"Oh, Sherlock, you've never understood human nature. Anyway, do you really think he would fall for you too?" Sherlock had been pacing back and forth in the flat for the entirety of this conversation, but he stopped in his tracks. This caught him by surprise. "I didn't mean any malice, dear brother," Mycroft continued, "but I was simply saying that most people can barely stand your presence as a detective, so I would certainly not think people are lining up to be your partner. Not even John."
"Really, Mycroft? Have you not noticed how infatuated John is with me? If he considers an asshole like myself a friend, who knows where else it could go? Not to mention that he irons his shirts ever time he comes to see me, a gesture not made toward those you aren't trying to impress."
"Well I suppose we'll see," Mycroft said wryly.
"Yes we will," an annoyed Sherlock replied, "Now I'm sure you have important business to attend to."
"Oh, how did you guess?" Mycroft's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Get back to your case, Sherlock. And if it is so essential that you know, John is with Mike Stamford tonight, and will be back at his home late, probably around midnight. Don't be an idiot." He stood up, and with a brief twirl of his umbrella, walked out the door.
Sherlock sighed, glad his dastardly brother had departed. He plopped down on the couch, thinking about the conversation with Mycroft and perhaps if he had a point. Sherlock was not one to understand others emotions terribly well, let alone his own. He had always interpreted John as his "conveniently placed companion." But lately, with all this trying- to-make-friends business he was in, Sherlock felt maybe his feeling were something different, something he could not identify.
He was unsure of how John would react as well. The last time he thought John he would make John happy, he was punched in the face in various restaurant settings. Sherlock considered the fact that he truly didn't understand human nature, being a high functioning sociopath and all. But he already had experience in the dating game for the first time, though obviously not a mutually loving experience. But Sherlock felt he did a good job with Janine, so he assumed it would be like that for John as well. Seeing as they already had a close friendship it would hardly be a difficult leap. Sherlock had spent the past weeks planning this, working out as many details as he could. His largest road block was knowing that he could not get his own emotions in the way, because it could compromise both John and Sherlock in the battle against Moriarty.
But he was confident that his plan would at least get him somewhere with Moriarty. Sherlock hadn't heard anything since the two weeks since Moriarty's great return from the dead. Perhaps with his network destroyed, he was laying low for a while. Or perhaps his network is completely intact, and Sherlock had been deceived. He did not like either idea.
He just knew that he need Moriarty to stop hiding and come out and play the game. A relationship with John would have a better chance than just about anything to do so. Sherlock didn't have any idea what he was getting into, but he did know one thing.
The game was on. And Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are Player 1 and 2.
Author's Note:
Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. This is one of my first fanfictions, so please review and tell me what you think!
Until next time, beautiful people!